The Story of My First Experience with Psilocybin (spoiler: it wasn’t for therapy)

When I had my first experience with psilocybin, it was December 2017 and I was in New Orleans celebrating the new year with a group of friends.

We had taken around 2G each and ventured into a sculpture garden.

It was a beautiful, balmy, 70 degree day and as I walked around waiting for the “trip” to begin, I remember feeling calm, open, and grateful in ways I had not felt before. 

It was the first time I had taken a solo vacation anywhere in my life.

I felt independent and free.

At 28, I was four years post-graduate degree in social work and frankly, neurotic as hell.

I didn’t know a thing about mushrooms back then and I had no idea what I was getting into.

I didn’t know about setting and intention, no clue about the sacred experience of the journey itself and zilch about integrating the insights gleaned from the journey after it was over.

As they say, I was young and dumb, and just looking for fun. 

After about an hour, we came to a bridge which crossed a small body of water full of life: lotuses and lily pads, frogs, swans, the water was teeming with creatures and plants.

As we stopped at the center of the bridge to admire the scene, I was overcome with laughter.

The serotonin had set in.

Pure joy consumed my being and all I could do was giggle about it.

The giggling fit grew into uncontrollable, raucous laughter stemming from deep in my abdomen.

Suddenly, huge tears were falling from my eyes.

I had never cried from laughter before. 

The experience unlocked something in my heart and a sense of restriction about my joy was released.

A part of me was set free.

Prior to that moment, I had always tempered my own happiness.

I grew up with many limiting and fear-based narratives, one of them being: there’s too much suffering in the world for us to truly be happy.

No one can be taken seriously if they’re silly; you better smarten up and “act right.”

Stifle your joy, mute your happiness, because something will eventually take it away from you, and you’ll be sorry you allowed yourself to open.

I laughed and laughed for over an hour after that.

Everything was hilarious.

One of my friends turned to me, smiled, and said simply, “Hi” and I couldn’t contain myself! I was doubled over as I bellowed out sounds I didn’t know I was capable of making. 

While I wheezed and wiped my eyes, we walked on and I felt the urge to sit beneath this stunning oak tree.

Oak trees represent strength, endurance, wisdom, power, and courage.

In Christianity, the oak is viewed as a symbol of resurrection, divine protection, and a reminder of the power and love of God (or universal energy, if you will). 

I’m not religious now (although I was raised Christian) and I sure as hell wasn’t nearly as spiritual back then as I am now.

So, of course, 28-year-old me had no idea about the additional meaning associated with the oak tree.

All I knew at the time was it was calling me, it was enormous, really freaking pretty, and had the most fascinating moss cascading off its branches.

I couldn’t stop staring at it. 

The moss swayed in the wind, and it appeared as though it were in stop-motion.

The movement was so slowed down I could see every frame of it.

I was connected to it all.

I sat there for what felt like hours, admiring the beauty of the tree, basking in the loving energy I felt, giggling my face off.

To a bystander, I probably looked like I had gone mad. 

I wanted this feeling to last forever. I never wanted to come down from this high.

If I could feel this free and loving and happy all the time, surely all my woes would be cured.

But alas… what goes up, must come down. 

Back then I thoroughly enjoyed living in denial.

I struggled to be embodied and present, so I decided I would take mushrooms again later on.

What I didn’t realize at the time was the mushrooms had allowed me to be fully present and embodied, and finally that experience had felt safe and loving.

However, from my limited perception at the time, I thought all that happened was that I had gotten high and had a great time laughing all afternoon in nature.

And I wanted more of that.

After sunset, my friends and I decided to go out for karaoke and I insisted that I would have more psilocybin in my system for the excursion. 

So, I took another 2G.

Only this time, my experience was not the same.

See, what I didn’t know at the time was that there is a spiritual intelligence to this plant medicine that won’t allow you to escape the truth, even if that is your intention. 

Back then I was still processing so much of my own trauma.

I would vacillate between conscious and unconscious moments, as my perception of the pain of that processing was too intense at times.

I allowed myself to live in hiding, in deep denial and numbed out from the pain.

I chased highs in all forms be it through drugs, alcohol, superficial relationships, or sex.

Chasing the high kept me distracted from the pain I was going through.

We all want to numb and dull the intensity of our pain.

Deep down we fear that we are deserving of it, that it is our destiny.

This is not true.

Our pain is a pathway to our peace and freedom, however we must move through it and release it in order to feel that liberation.

And we must understand that this will be a repeated cycle.

We rise, we fall, we rise again.

It’s all temporary, transient, and we are always in a state of transformation.

We are sentient beings and we must feel, we must be.

We must allow ourselves to get acquainted and then re-acquainted with our pain.

It is the only way we can grow and truly embrace joy and love.

As we arrived at the karaoke bar, I knew the mushrooms were taking effect, only this time there wasn’t a sense of the same high.

Instead, I was acutely aware of the darkness around me.

How unhappy and tuned out most of the individuals around me appeared to be.

The energy of the bar felt heavy, filled by a sense of emptiness engendered by sadness and longing. A feeling of emptiness that cannot be filled: an endless stagnant void. 

Honestly, at the time I was a little disturbed by the experience and mildly regretted my decision.

I relaxed into what was happening but also noticed myself internally recoiling from it. I was in a state of conflict the entire night. 

Looking back on this now, I see that the medicine was showing me what I was attempting to hide from: the fear that I myself was empty inside, unworthy, unlovable; doomed to spend eternity alone, yearning for what I believed I was undeserving of, separate from it all.

Deep stuff that the young, immature 28-year-old me wasn’t ready to accept or even acknowledge.

If I could go back to that version of me now, I would tell her that the sense of disappointment and rejection she had so often felt in her life was not personal.

I would encourage her to soften with her anger and be gentler with herself.

I would let her know that disappointment is simply a part of life and it is helping her to wake up, to redirect inward. It’s offering her an opportunity to let go.

I would compassionately point out how protected she kept herself out of fear and help her understand that this pattern was simply reinforcing the illusion.

I would let her know that it is not only safe, but imperative that she keep her heart open to herself and the world no matter the pain.

And most importantly, that the world needed her joy and it was time to stop dampening her inherent nature. 

I didn’t touch mushrooms again until 2023. I’ll save that story for another time.